


Memories Outlast Things

by oxymoronassoc



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoronassoc/pseuds/oxymoronassoc
Summary: Written 12/26/2007, spoilers thru Exodus II





	Memories Outlast Things

“Hey there soldier.” 

The familiar voice made him turn and he could feel his heart breaking for a second time.

She stood before him in the aisle between the bunks, sweaty and triumphant, her flight suit dangling from one hand. She wasn’t dead; she’d found Earth and now she’d found them. The prodigal daughter had returned home. He rose with a start, pushing back his chair in his haste to rise. The room was otherwise empty; everyone had abandoned their pursuits to stream to the flight deck as the claxons had sounded. 

The steps he took were more like stumble but he didn’t notice as he stood before her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. His arms closed around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. The flight suit fell from her fingers, trampled beneath his feet.

“Is it really you? Gods this is like a bad dream. I’m going to wake up and you’ll be dead and I’ll be alone. I’ll be—” he choked on his words, closing his eyes tight as his fingers dug deep into the firm muscle of her pale shoulders, hard enough to leave gouged marks from even his short fingernails. 

“You’re not alone,” she told him, giving his hair a gentle tug before her hand slid down his face to cup his jaw. “You’re not alone. I’m here, Sammy. It’s me. It’s really me.” She rose on tip-toes to kiss him and her mouth was hot and sweet and he didn’t deserve any of it. Didn’t deserve her. Gods, he was a cylon. She would never understand, would never forgive him. He should push her away now, before it hurt any more. One clean rip, one clean break. But instead he pulled her closer, pushing his tongue into her inviting mouth. For once, he wasn’t going to be the nice guy, do the nice thing. The right thing. 

He didn’t even lock the door, didn’t even look to see if the bunks were really as empty as he perceived them to be. He just picked her up by the hips and pushed her down onto the table that sat between the rows of beds. His kisses were hungry and desperate and she kissed him back as if she were just as starved. It didn’t matter where she’d been or where there was going; for Sam, there was only now, only this one moment before his life as he knew it came crashing even further down around his ears. 

Their clothes seemed to dissolve in a flurry of hurried movements. He put his hands all over her body, relishing the feeling of her soft skin, storing away each sigh and moan and gasp for the bleak days that stretched before him. He banished the thought from his mind as he tipped her carefully backwards and slid his mouth down from his neck to her breasts.

Soon her legs were wrapped tight around his hips, urging him forward as she begged and pleaded and demanded and cajoled him to get on with it. He paused then. His breathing sounded harsh to even his own ears and he could feel his heart beating hard and fast. He knew this wasn’t a good idea. Gods, he’d always known she wasn’t a good idea. She got under your skin and you could never get her out. But he’d loved the feeling, even as he’d known it wasn’t going to last. He just hadn’t thought it’d end like this. Because of him, not because of her. The thoughts raced around his mind like bumper cards, slamming into each other harder and harder over and over until he couldn’t think.

“Sam?” Her voice broke through the haze of his thoughts and he looked down at her, at the deep black of the tattoos that marked her pale skin, at the muscle flexing beneath, at the curve of her small breasts, at the scars that had long ago faded. He gave a long shuddering breath and took a step backward, unwilling to continue with this charade he’d begun.

She reared up in a swift, athletic motion, her legs tightening around him. “I told you, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” Her hands were in his hair, yanking his face down to hers where she kissed him hard, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Clever fingers moved down his body, scratching his bare chest lightly before moving to his underwear. They slid teasingly along the elastic band and a smirk played around her mouth. He shoved her hands away, yanking his underwear down himself.

He pushed her down onto the table once more, grasping her hips in one hand as he positioned himself before sliding inside. She whimpered softly, hand curving around his bicep, nails digging into flesh. “Gods, Kara,” he choked out before pulling back to thrust again. She tightened her thighs, holding him prisoner for a moment.

“I missed you,” she whispered into his hair. She stared up at him, eyes soft and trusting. He felt all the worse for the betrayal that was going to inevitably follow.

“I missed you too. Oh gods, I missed you. Kara, oh, Kara.” Her hold on him slacked slightly and their hips began to move. He could feel an ache already setting up in his leg, but his mind shied away from the pain, totally focused on the woman beneath him. He closed his eyes, not wanting to meet her gaze lest he betray himself. 

He’d wanted it to be slow and sweet, something gentle and kind he could roll over in his mind and let linger in the abyss of the future, but it’d never been that. He was out of time and she was out of control. Their bodies met in a harsh slap of skin, their breathing loud and raspy. Bruises were made by ungentle hands and blood drawn in crescent moons by clutching hands. She came panting him name and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His climax came almost painfully and he spilled himself into her welcoming body before collapsing on top of her, his face pressed into cold metal, his bad leg weak and trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she murmured, stroking his hair with one hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

He remained where he lay atop her, letting her stroke his hair, staring blindly ahead at the rows of empty bunks.


End file.
